


it's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough

by Sonni89



Category: Hart of Dixie
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonni89/pseuds/Sonni89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To win some money for the Rammer Jammer in a contest, Lemon and Wade rekindle their fake relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galfridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galfridian/gifts).



> This is set in early season 3, when Lemon and Wade still co-owned the Rammer Jammer. 
> 
> Happy holidays and happy Yuletide, galfridian! I hope you like this. 
> 
> Infinite thanks to my beta empressearwig!

“Who let Zoe Hart run this year’s BlueBell Fall Festivities?”

Lemon asked the question to the bar at large, a little bit surly that it had to be asked at all. She didn't expect an answer. She didn't think anyone would dare give her one.

The bi-annual festival had been hers for years. It celebrated all things fall, of course, and ended with the Pair Fallympics, a partnered contest in blindfolded pie tasting, BlueBell trivia, speed leaf raking, and pumpkin tossing, among other competitions. Lemon had been responsible for organizing the past two festivals and she now deeply regretted being the bigger person and allowing Lavon to bring a still new in town Zoe Hart as his plus one to the previous event. Maybe Zoe would never have found out about it if she hadn’t. Being the bigger person was truly exhausting sometimes.

“You know, honey. Luck of the draw,” her father replied.

The BlueBell Fall Festivities, or BFF, were always organized by the person whose name was drawn out of a hat. Eight weeks before the festival, there was a draw at the Rammer Jammer and those who were interested in running it submitted their names. Lemon had won the draw four years ago and had loved organizing the festival so much that she’d made her entire family and some of her friends submit their names for the last draw. She was ecstatic when Magnolia’s name was pulled out of the hat, mostly because her sister had been in middle school and hadn’t the slightest interest in organizing a festival at all. Of course, Magnolia hadn’t let her forget doing her a favor for a long time. Lemon had essentially been her personal chauffeur for a week in exchange for Magnolia’s participation in the draw. She shuddered at the memory. At least the last BFF was one of the most successful festivals she’d ever planned -- despite its horrid acronym.

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Lemon sighed, trying to convince herself that it was. “After all, it’s not like I have someone to go with this year.”

Lemon was trying not to be bitter about her single status. She was independent after all, she had a job and an income, (some) friends, and her own place to live, and in the grand scheme of things, weren’t those things more important than having a man in her life? Maybe they were, but not when it came to the BlueBell Fall Festivities, they weren’t. She could not show up there alone, especially since she needed to defend her gold in the Fallympics.

“What do you mean? You have me, your adoring ex-boyfriend,” Wade quipped from his spot next to her. “You know, we could go together. I don’t have anyone to go with either, and I’m in the mood for pie.”

“You want to go to the BlueBell Fall Festivities?” Lemon asked. She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought you hated almost all town events.”

“Not this one I don’t. They offer a $300 cash prize for the winner of the Fallympics. The Rammer Jammer could really use it, and you know that with your brains and my body, we’re going to win.”

Lemon rolled her eyes at ‘my body’. But still, he might have a point. “You could be right. We really do need some new menus in here,” she said, talking more to herself than to him. And probably new curtains, and maybe some tablecloths as well. And cute napkins, perhaps with seasonal motifs. But, oh, $300 wouldn’t cover all that, and even if it would, Wade would never go for it. Lemon kept her redecorating dreams to herself.

“I was more thinking along the lines of a foosball table,” Wade said. He grinned at the look on her face. “It would be great for business.”

“No,” Lemon said flatly. Even Wade had to know he wasn’t going to win that one.

Of course it was then that Zoe Hart chose to walk into the Rammer Jammer and over to join them at the bar.

“It turns out that I may need a little bit of help with the BlueBell Fall Festivities,” Zoe said, sounding slightly defeated.

“ _My_ help? Why would I want to help you?” Lemon asked. It was a rhetorical question, really. After all, she and Zoe still weren’t on great terms. And that might have been the understatement of the century.

“Because you love this festival more than you can’t stand me, and you want it to be a success.” Zoe replied.

Lemon should have known that Zoe Hart wouldn’t understand a rhetorical question. “Fine. What do you need?” She really didn’t want to help out Zoe of all people, but the Fall Festivities were too important to her not to suck it up and deal.

“Mostly just the logistics of the Fallympics. How do I set those up?”

Zoe looked confused and overwhelmed. Served her right. Or not? Lemon wasn’t that awful, and most of all, she did want the Fall Festivities to be great.

Still, Lemon sighed. This was even more hopeless than she had anticipated. “I’ll have Annabeth bring over my festival binder to the practice for you. She has a copy.”

“Thank you so much!” Zoe almost started bouncing up and down. “You won’t regret it.”

Lemon was pretty sure she would.

 

* * *

 

Wade signed them up for the Fallympics. Of course, Wade didn’t limit himself to this helpful act, but somehow also managed to convince Zoe and Lavon that despite the fact that he and Lemon had faked a relationship, they were now together for real. Lemon was one hundred percent certain that Wade only did it to mess with her, but she decided to overlook that for now. They really needed the money for the bar, after all, in whatever way they wound up using it, and she would not admit to having had two fake relationships with Wade Kinsella. The one was bad enough. Now that they were in this mess, this one had to at least look real for the festival. And besides, she could always break up with him once she had the gold medal safely around her neck.

This time, though, she called Annabeth.

“Wade and I are in another fake relationship,” Lemon said as soon as Annabeth answered the phone, dispensing with pleasantries like greetings.

“Another one? Really, Lemon?” Annabeth asked.

“I’m no more happy about this situation, I assure you.” And it was true, Lemon was mildly annoyed, but somehow she found herself smiling as she recounted the story that Wade had told her. Why was she smiling? The first time around hadn’t been so bad, she supposed. It might have even been the slightest bit fun.

“Are you smiling?” Annabeth asked.

“I am not.”

“She who doth protest too much,” Annabeth said with a teasing laugh.

“You’re no help at all,” Lemon said. She wanted to sound mad, but knew that she didn’t. It was too hard to be mad at Annabeth, even when she spouted utter nonsense about Wade.

“I’m not trying to be,” Annabeth said. “You’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

The day of the BlueBell Fall Festivities arrived rather quickly. Too quickly for Lemon’s taste, she had really wanted to get some practice sessions in with Wade.

The day began with a parade that was only just acceptable, though who was surprised? Zoe Hart organized it after all, so it could never have been anything better. The floats weren’t colorful or decorated enough, and the paper maché turkey was clearly not symmetrical. But if Lemon was being fair, it wasn’t altogether the disaster that Lemon had envisioned, especially since this was Zoe’s first BFF and Lemon had only helped a little. After all, her love for organizing this festival didn’t stretch to wanting to organize it with Zoe. Lemon just didn’t want it to be awful.

“I have a surprise for you all,” Zoe announced through the microphone as she took the stage. “Because of a generous donation by our friends at WMCR Radio 103.8, the prize for the Fallympics has been upped to $1,000 for the winning team.”

Oohs and aahs could be heard through the crowd. Lemon was irritated. How did Zoe manage to pull that off when two hours before the festival started, she couldn’t even figure out where the tables for the pie tasting had to go? Lemon quickly stalked over to where Wade was standing.

“Did you know about this, _honey_?” she hissed in his ear, emphasizing the term of endearment as she moved in to kiss his cheek. What? She had to play up the fake relationship. People were watching.

“Nope. First time I’m hearing it, honeypie,” Wade said so only she could hear, clearly mocking her.

Lemon huffed, irritated. “You realize this means we have to win, don’t you? No screw-ups. I want those new curtains.”

“I’m not that much of an idiot,” Wade said. He frowned then. “Wait, what curtains?”

“Did I say curtains?” Lemon said. She grabbed his arm and steered him towards the sign in table. “Let’s go sign in for the Fallympics!”

Wade shot her a look that said he clearly didn’t buy her dissembling, but wasn’t going to argue with her this once. Lemon appreciated his restraint. Maybe once they had the thousand dollars in hand and she’d made the appropriate upgrades to the Rammer Jammer, she’d even let Wade have his foosball table. Maybe. If he earned it and that remained to be seen.

 

* * *

 

“Yessss! High five!” Wade shouted across the table, reaching out his arm above the half-eaten pies they’d accurately tasted.

“We’re finally in the lead,” Lemon replied as she high-fived Wade. Only the pumpkin toss to go now, and she was pretty sure they had that in the bag. Just like everyone in town, she’d seen Wade without a shirt on and knew the kind of muscles he had. Not that she went out of her way to notice.

“We got this. And when we win, I think you should buy me a drink at the after party. I’d say we earned it.”

“Oh, like you need an excuse for a drink,” Lemon said. Despite her words, she smiled at him until she was struck by a terrifying thought: Had Wade Kinsella just asked her on a date? And worse, had she agreed?

Wade just smiled a wide smile back at her.

Lemon was afraid that meant that she had. That was bad. If she had any sense at all, she’d walk away from him and the Fallympics right now, but she also still wanted to win. Maybe more than ever. Not that there was any relation to what they just talked about, it was just her competitive spirit flaring up. They were fake boyfriend-and-girlfriend again after all. Nothing strange about going to grab a drink with your boyfriend.

 

 

* * *

On the winner’s podium, Lemon beamed at Wade. For someone that annoyed her so frequently, he was actually quite useful sometimes. As she predicted, they did very well in the pumpkin toss, bringing them 17 points ahead of the competition, a Fallympics record.

Zoe put a gold medal around Lemon’s neck, and another one around Wade’s, and hugged them both. Lemon was too happy to mind -- especially once Zoe handed her the oversized ceremonial check.

“That’s it for this year’s Fallympics! See you all at the after party,” Zoe announced.

Wade leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Let’s go grab our reward drink first.”

Lemon smiled at him and nodded once. What was happening to her? Was this really just keeping up appearances for their pseudo-relationship? It couldn’t be anything more.

 

* * *

 

They went to the bar together, and Lemon let Wade order, curious as to what he’d get her. To her considerable surprise, he ordered her a glass of white wine before asking for a beer for himself. When the bartender passed over the drinks, Wade handed Lemon hers before raising his beer towards her.

“To us,” he said and tapped the neck of his bottle against her glass. He drained the bottle and then watched her with amusement as she did the same. “Why Lemon Breeland, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Please,” she said. “I can do anything you can do. And besides,” she shuddered a little as she patted her lips with a napkin, “chugging is the only acceptable way to drink wine like that.”

Wade laughed. “Does that mean you don’t want another one?”

“No,” she said. She hesitated, sure she was about to make a terrible mistake. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like another drink.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that then,” Wade said. His eyes sparkled at her, and what she was doing noticing Wade’s eyes, Lemon was sure she didn’t understand. “Distract the bartender.”

Lemon frowned at him, but did what she was told. She tugged the neckline of her v-necked t-shirt a little lower and leaned down across the bar. Sure enough, it caught the bartender’s attention and he came back over immediately, his eyes dropping to her cleavage. Lemon rolled her eyes at the utter predictability and asked for his phone number. As Steve – his name was apparently Steve – scribbled his number down on a napkin, Lemon caught sight of Wade liberating a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses from behind the bar. He slipped away from the crowd, wagging the bottle at her, daring her to follow.

It was like they were back in high school.

Lemon grabbed the napkin and stuffed it into her bra, backing away from Steve as quickly as she could. “I’ll call,” she said, doing her best to look convincing despite knowing that she would not be calling Steve ever.

When she finally reached Wade’s side, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip her hand into his, and to wander through the crowds looking for a less crowded spot for them to sit and enjoy their ill-gotten bounty. Finally, they found one behind one of the large trees just off the main square and Wade shocked her by taking off his flannel shirt and putting it down on the ground for her to sit on.

“Your throne, m’lady,” he said.

He helped her sit, not letting go of her hand until she was safely on the ground. Lemon thought he might have held on for just a little too long, but it didn’t seem worth mentioning, not when this was so unexpectedly nice.

Wade joined her on the ground, stretching out next to her. He poured two shots of tequila, passing her one. And when that one was gone, there was another. And another.

“This seems awfully familiar,” Wade said, as he poured another round of shots. “Remember the first time we all got drunk? You, me, and George?”

Lemon smiled at the memory, then winced as she remembered the headache that followed. “I thought of that earlier when you took that bottle from the bar. That certainly took me back to when we snuck that really expensive bottle of brandy out of George’s house and drank it on the football field.”

“Those were good times,” Wade said

“For you, maybe. I spent the next morning explaining to my father that I must have gotten food poisoning somewhere the night before,” Lemon replied. She shuddered, remembering the look on her father’s face. “Still my worst hangover to this day.”

“I felt fine. Mostly.”

Lemon looked at him incredulously. “Liar.”

“I’m not admitting to anything, but I suppose it’s possible that I just blocked out the memory of my first hangover,” Wade said. “Just possible, mind you.”

“That feels like a lifetime away now. Everything was so different then,” Lemon said.

“You mean Tucker? You still miss him?” Wade asked, then immediately grimaced. “Look, Lemon, I’m—“

“Most of the time, I’m truly fine,” she said, not waiting for him to finish whatever half-baked apology he had on offer. “Independent woman and all that. But it was more than ten years of my life, and though it’s been a while, sometimes I wake up in the morning and still feel like something - someone - is missing.”

Instantly, she wished the words back. That wasn’t someone she wanted to tell anyone. Especially not Wade of all people.

“I get it, you know.”

“Get what?” Lemon tried to dissemble, but Wade wouldn’t cooperate.

“I was married, once. And then there was Zoe. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Lemon sighed. Sympathetic Wade was not something she understood. But it was nice. “It’s fine. You know, before tonight, I hadn’t thought about us in high school for ages. We were so young, and so stupid. We had fun, didn’t we?” She reached over to touch his arm and ended up with her palm against his stomach instead. It had to be the alcohol, her hand-eye coordination was superb.

“I did. I think you did.” Wade took another shot, straight from the bottle. “But if we’re sharing, I gotta tell you that I had a crush on you in high school.” He winced, shook his head and set the bottle away from him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Lemon was utterly shocked and she didn’t bother to try to hide it.

“ _What_?” she said or maybe she screeched. She didn’t know what to do with what he’d just told her. She hadn’t expected their conversation to take that turn, not even after her ill-advised confession. And she couldn’t believe she’d never realized. Generally, Lemon knew when a man was interested in her, had known even back then. But she’d never suspected that of Wade.

Wade shook his head ruefully. “I need to watch my idiot mouth, especially when there’s tequila involved. But it’s true. You got together with Tucker, though, and that was that. Bro code and all that bullcrap. Plus, you never did let anyone forget for long how damn irritating you could be.” He sat up then, bumping his shoulder against hers with a smile. “I got over it. No pining here.”

“Very funny,” she said, bumping him right back. “But Wade, that’s sweet. Little you and little me. Just imagine how differently my life might have turned out. I might have been the kind of person who owned more than one denim miniskirt or someone with an intimate relationship with flannel.”

Wade grinned at that, clearly not opposed to that image. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and Lemon didn’t even consider shrugging it off. It felt too nice. Wait, nice?

“That probably wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he said. “You should still feel free to do that, by the way. Really sell our fake relationship and all. I have this feeling that you’d look great in plaid and I happen to already know you look great in a jeans miniskirt.”

There was no way to mistake what Wade was doing as anything but flirting. Lemon was just confused as to why she wasn’t running screaming in the opposite direction.

In fact, she wasn’t doing anything but grinning at him like an idiot, but at least he was doing that too. Get a grip, she told herself sternly. This is _Wade Kinsella_. You’ve known him your entire life. If you had feelings for him, surely you would have known it before this. Knowing that he had a crush on you in high school or that he’s your fake boyfriend _again_ , none of that should change anything.

That was as far as she got with thinking, though, because that was the exact moment that Wade kissed her. And oh, it was nice. Different from the fake kisses that they’d shared before, but real and _good_. It wasn’t awkward at all in the way that first kisses could be, but familiar and comfortable with some excitement added on for good measure. If she’d ever imagined Wade kissing her for real, this wasn’t how Lemon would have thought it would happen. It was better.

It was too tame, though, and Lemon wanted more. Maybe Wade was playing the gentleman, having heard many of her lectures on public displays of affection. But they were alone, with no one around that needed to be fooled. If they were going to do this, to try this, there was no better time or place.

Lemon wrapped her arms around Wade’s neck and intensified the kiss, and that was all the encouragement he needed. His tongue was in her mouth then and - oh. That was the kind of kiss she expected from him. She wouldn’t think about when she had started expecting kisses from Wade at all, or thinking about what they’d feel like. That she was thinking that way at all must mean she was drunker than she’d realized. Wade’s hands slipped under her shirt, his hands tentative, then firm against her skin and everywhere at once. Lemon stopped thinking entirely. This felt too good for thinking and if it was a mistake, there was plenty of time later for regrets.

When they finally broke apart, Lemon wasn’t sure if they’d been making out for minutes or for hours. She was confused and aroused and confused again, because she’d never expected that Wade, of all people, could make her feel this way. He was a surprisingly not terrible business partner and a loyal friend, but she’d never considered him as a lover. She didn’t even _like_ him most of the time, but hell, he was hot and she was single and if nothing else, she could blame this on the tequila, so why shouldn’t they do this?

It was only now that they weren’t kissing that Lemon noticed how awkward their side-by-side position was. Since she wasn’t done with him, Lemon scooted closer and shifted to face him, but Wade did her one better and pulled her into his lap. Smooth. This time Lemon kissed him, and Wade immediately responded in the way that she wanted. If possible, this kiss was better than the first one had been, and if Lemon let out a little moan, well, she wouldn’t have been surprised. It was just so good, and it would be so easy to get used to it, to this. But that had to be the alcohol talking, even though Lemon didn’t feel all that drunk anymore. She wasn’t admitting that under the pain of death, though. Not to anyone.

When they stopped again, Wade looked at her, a little smug now. “That was pretty nice,” he said.

“Did I do fifteen year old Wade’s expectations justice?” Lemon asked, her voice teasing. She scooted off Wade’s lap, but stayed pressed against him, drawing his arm around her shoulders again. It was getting a little bit chilly now and she rather liked the physical contact.

“You far exceeded them, I’d say.” Wade replied. “You exceeded adult Wade’s expectations, too.”

Of course she did, she was Lemon Breeland. Lemon wanted to grin from cheek to cheek – after all, that had been really nice to hear - but managed to contain herself and just give him a small smile instead.

“You’re not too bad yourself, either.” As a rule, Lemon didn’t say things like that, but Wade had earned it. Those were damn good kisses. “You might have even earned your foosball table.”

“And I guess you can have your new menus and curtains, or whatever it is you wanted,” Wade said. He looked altogether too pleased with himself, though.

“Don’t look so smug. And I also want tablecloths,” Lemon said, then immediately changed the subject. “We should head back to the party. We are the guests of honor, after all. I’m sure someone’s missed us by now.”

“You might be right. But I’m sure that they’re making allowances, what with us being newly reunited and all. This town does love a good romance.” Wade sounded entirely too genuine for Lemon’s liking. “And don’t think I missed that bit about the tablecloths. You’re lucky I’m agreeing to menus and curtains.”

“We’ll see,” Lemon said. She stood up, brushing the grass from her jeans. “I’m going to find Annabeth. I’ll see you later.”

She left without waiting for a reply. She needed time to think and to process. It had been fun and she needed it, but that didn’t mean she wanted more. Or did it? She wouldn’t think about that tonight, she decided. And while she was making decisions, there was no need to end her fake relationship with Wade tomorrow, was there? She’d give it another week at least. Just to make it look real.

 

* * *

 

Lemon reached the main square and spotted Annabeth across the crowd. As she headed in that direction, of course she happened to bump into Zoe Hart. But not even Zoe could ruin tonight, so Lemon decided to be magnanimous.

“Well done,” Lemon said, pitching her voice over the music. She was aware she might have still been grinning like a loon, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I mean it.”

“Did you just compliment me?” Zoe asked, looking genuinely confused.

“I suppose I did,” Lemon said, and she brushed past her, leaving a slack-jawed Zoe Hart standing in her wake. When she reached Annabeth’s side, Lemon looked back and found Zoe still standing in the same spot, grinning in the same way that Lemon had been since the first time Wade’s lips touched hers.

Well, that was only fair. After all, Wade had made her night. The least Lemon could do was make someone else’s.

Maybe she’d let Wade make hers again.


End file.
